Friends in High Places
by Cinereous
Summary: Sometimes it pays to disobey orders. (Character exploration, set before the start of the series. No OCs but does heavily feature characters who aren't named or given many lines in the series.)


In years past, when Gurere asked Garuru to stay put, he stayed put. His older son could reliably stay in place for hours on end, so long as he had enough homework, books, or battery life in his portable game pad to keep him occupied. When the red male asked Giroro to stay put, the younger Keronian inevitably wandered off as soon as his father's back was turned. There were approximately three things Gurere's younger son was interested in: trains, model trains, and learning about trains. Yet somehow no amount of train-related paraphernalia could keep his tail parked in place for more than the twenty-two minutes it took to watch an episode of his favorite train-related cartoon. Hyper focused on one subject and he still had the attention span of a space flea. Gurere prayed for the day Giroro would grow out of this phase – the trains or the lack of concentration, whichever came first – but it had been over a year now and still no signs of any kind of wished-for development had appeared. The only comfort Gurere had was that his youngest son seemed to have a knack for always running into Keronians who, rather than be rightfully annoyed by his youthful pestering, thought he was adorable and charming. Gurere was fairly sure that other people's children were always cuter than your own because, at the end of the day, you didn't have to take care of them. Or thank the nice secretary from down the hall and three floors up for watching your son for you, give them a tight-lipped smile when they commented on how he was such a little gentleman, have the same child complain – loudly and repeatedly – about being bored ten minutes later, and giving said child a time out in the corner as the most tadpole-friendly exercise possible in what boredom really felt like. Follow up with a round of pouting and rinse and repeat the next day, except instead of down the hall and three floors up he made it two floors down and into a high-security research lab dedicated to testing explosives.

Glumly, Gurere reflected that all of the scientists must have been wrong and Daikoko _had_ passed on her enhanced stealth and capacity for charisma to their younger son. There was simply no other way Giroro should still have been unharmed after running off so many times and leaving the relatively safe haven of the theoretical weapons research and development bloc. He was further unamused that some of his coworkers had taken to storing candies and single-serving snacks in their desks to give to his little red son. The only thing he could be grateful for through all of it was that Giroro had yet to realize the treats were purchased specifically for him and often declined them, saying that he didn't want to take the workers' lunches from them. Of course, this also only made him more popular and increased the amount of fawning and fussing the young tadpole received. His peers were going to spoil his son rotten, he was sure of it.

Which was precisely the kind of encouragement he blamed for the fact that, right now, he had absolutely no idea where Giroro was. Usually Giroro could at least be trusted to show up at lunch time, bouncing back in from his latest adventure and asking to be taken down to the cafeteria or, on the rare days Gurere had had time to make him one, for his bento. Today there was no patter of tiny tadpole feet outside his office, no happy chirping, no recounted tales of blazing new rails. Gurere blamed everyone around him. All it would have taken was one person, _one person_, to pull a scary face and growl about how they ate stray tadpoles and he was sure Giroro would have zipped right back to his office and stayed there, where he was safe and his father could keep an eye on him. But no, of course that hadn't happened. And now his son could be anywhere.

Somehow, Gurere felt this was his comeuppance for being something of a bully back when he'd been a tadpole. He'd been very active and big into sports and he'd teased the other tadpoles when they couldn't keep up with him. He cursed the gods that karma had gone after his children, because that was a low blow. It had started with Garuru, but Gurere had ignored it as long as possible until he could no longer avoid the truth: his son was a nerd. Of course he was, what other kind of tadpole would Daikoko raise? In the brief time she'd had after Garuru was born, she'd read to him, played with him to teach him his shapes and colors, and tried to instill in him an early appreciation for classical music (the last may have had something to do with Gurere declaring that he couldn't listen to classical music with her except as a last ditch attempt to fall asleep). Gurere had done his best to pick up where she left off – minus the classical music – but, really, Garuru had practically taught himself how to read using tadpole-friendly books that also had a books on tape version. And then he kept reading, until he was decidedly above his grade level and rapidly leaving behind common ground with other tadpoles his age. His son had learned to read using a tape recorder; he was an abject failure as a father and his son was getting picked on because he was too smart. So of course Garuru just had to be introverted as well and just retreated further into books because his classmates were 'illogical' and 'uninteresting' and he had little natural drive to go out and socialize with anyone who wasn't a librarian. Years later, when Giroro was born, Garuru began life as an older brother reclusive, shy, ahead of his grade level in academics but so disconnected from his peers that he was failing horribly at resonance and virtually friendless.

Giroro, by the grace of all things good, dodged the nerd bullet and was instead developing into a frustratingly normal, energetic tadpole who was well intentioned but often forgot his manners and who also seemed to have a perpetual case of cotton in his ears. He was obsessed with something perfectly normal for his age and also liked to go out and catch bugs to bring home and show off as trophies, as opposed to Garuru who had instead set up a life list for recording all the bugs he happened to see. Of course, Giroro also occasionally tried to keep some of the bigger, 'cooler' bugs alive in a terrarium so that his mother could come home and see them, but no insect could live that long under the care of a tadpole (even if he did have what support his father could lend him), and it broke Gurere's heart to see him try.

Not for the first time that day he wished Daikoko was with him at that moment. She would have been able to find Giroro in an instant, because she never would have lost him to begin with. But as quickly as it came, he brushed the thought aside. He knew, as he did each time, that Daikoko just couldn't abandon her job; her work was too important and she couldn't simply switch careers the way he had. Instead he needed to be strong enough for both of them, to raise their sons right, and to find Giroro before something happened to him. Gods he wished Daikoko was there with him.

* * *

With a groan and a popping of stiff joints, Hikaka pushed himself up out of the hunched position he'd been sitting in for the past several hours, leaning back in the cushy, high-backed chair as he stretched his arms up over his head, fingers lacing together to help crack his knuckles back into place. In the dimming light of the afternoon, for now the sun had crested over the building and was beginning its slow descent down the side opposite his office, the Keronian frowned down at the papers spread across the surface of his desk in neat, intimidating stacks and smaller, no less threatening piles. He hated doing paper work, hated it, but no leader could get out of doing such boring, hand-cramping work. Not even the Grand High General could escape this duty, unfortunately.

Relaxing from the tense arch he'd pushed his body into, Hikaka reached out across the desk and wrapped one dark hand around the handle of an elegant, heavily facetted crystal carafe of water, lifting the weighty piece of lavish finery and pouring its remaining contents into a small, flawless glass. Returning the pitcher to its designated place with a solid thump of crystal against wood, he grabbed the glass with his other hand and raised it to his mouth, taking a deep, greedy drink. It wasn't even that he was thirty; he'd drank more than enough, really. But this was real Keronian water, not that imported stuff with added minerals that he'd been drinking for all those months aboard the Grand Star. Benefits his position may give him, Hikaka considered himself above such ridiculous extravagancies as weighing down an entire mobile fleet just so he could drink his preferred type of water. And, really, all that waiting just made the water taste even better once he did return to Keron.

Eyeing the pitcher, he acknowledged that the water wasn't the only thing he missed. And, seeing as how he was running so low of the first at the moment, he might as well indulge himself some more with another of his favorite beverages. Setting his drained glass back down, the General heaved his chair backwards and then slid to the floor, small feet padding over the plush navy blue carpeting. He could have called somebody else to fetch him a drink, but the walk would do him good. A real walk, at that, not just hovering from place to place.

Opening the polished wood door to his office – imported from some far-off, long-conquered planet, no doubt – he tugged it closed behind himself and keyed the lock code into the security pad set off to the right of the door's frame. With a satisfying two-tone beep and a hiss of hidden hydraulics, the door sealed behind him while above the overly decorative architrave he'd never been fond of a red light flashed for a moment as the security system stepped up a level, safe and secure until he returned.

With a small, pleased hum the General about-faced and began a steady swagger down the hallway, privately congratulating himself on having such a brilliant idea. Juvenile though it may be, he got a small thrill out of going off on his own like this, without telling any of his advisors or secretaries or junior attendants where he was going or that he'd even left his post at all. It was like being a new recruit again and sneaking out of the barracks at night to go visit a friend or slip out into town to hit up a club or meet with a cute girl. Proud as he was of his rank, Hikaka was even more proud that he had not completely lost himself under the pomp and stuffy nature that was expected of such a prestigious place within the military.

Meandering down the hallway at his own pace, the General could just see his destination coming into view, a dark shadow on the wall ahead marking the recessed nook into which his vending machine of choice resided. What to buy, what to buy? A juice? A cola? A bag of chips? Or maybe one of those little plastic wrapped pastries which were always sort of stale and terrible for your health but still sugary sweet and sickly delicious? His thoughts pulled up abruptly, abandoned as he got close enough to see into the alcove and saw that the snack dispenser was not its only occupant at the moment.

A tadpole was standing before the vending machine, pushed up on its tiptoes with small, stubby fingers clinging to the thin strip of black plastic that formed a narrow lip beneath the clear front of the machine. The little one peered upwards, tail wagging slightly as it examined all the treats locked inside, so tempting but clearly out of its reach. This tadpole was much too small to be meant to be wandering around alone. Most likely it was one of the military's wards, either having lost both its parents in the line of duty or else one of the genetic experiment born out of the labs, that had escaped its caretaker. Grimly, Hikaka noted to himself that there had been a rather large crossover between those two categories as of late.

"This is a restricted area," he called out as gently as he could, not wanting to frighten the tadpole into running off. "Are you lost, child? I can take you back to where you belong, if you need."

The child jerked back slightly, losing its grip on the vending machine and taking a few tottering steps to back away from the device and turn to face him, allowing him a look at the tadpole's insignia. A yellow skull, very fitting for a future soldier. It peered up with wide, almost almond-shaped eyes, blinking a few times before a wide grin broke out across the child's face, displaying four sharp fangs in place of the usual incisors.

"Hi!" the child squeaked enthusiastically, completely ignoring everything he'd just said to it. Well, it _did_ look very young, so he supposed he shouldn't have expected much from it. Still…

"Are you lost?" he repeated, lowering himself to one knee so he could look the child in the face.

"Nuh-uh," the tadpole denied, shaking its head. "Not lost. Look, look, see?" The little red one turned away slightly, pointing up at the vending machine. "I found rations!"

A frown folding across his lips, Hikaka tried to rephrase his question. "You're still not supposed to be here. Where did you come from?"

"Oh, um… Kinda down thata way." There was a vague gesture off towards the far right-hand side of the corridor.

"And are you suppose to be here?" the General asked, feeling one brow rising. The child looked down at its feet, guilt all but radiating off of it. "Well?" he asked, after a prolonged silence. A small headshake in the negative was all he got in response. "Then where _are_ you suppose to be?"

"With daddy," came the soft response, the child still looking downwards and nearly causing Hikaka to miss the answer entirely. Huh, not a military ward then. Hikaka frowned as he leaned back to examine the child again, feeling a lick of anger inside his chest. A military man he may be, but he heartless he was not. Children were innocent, naïve, dependent, precious. Who had let this child wander off alone; what scum though it acceptable to leave a child to fend for themselves inside a _military_ base, full of weapons and chemicals labs and, yes, certain unsavory persons?

Closing his eyes for a moment to take a deep, steadying breath, Hikaka stood up before reaching down to take the child's small red hand in his own larger black one. "Let's go find him, then." The General was careful to keep the growl out of his voice, to silence the promise of a threat against the careless man who had let this child wander so.

The tadpole peeped back up at the vending machine before returning its eyes to the floor, allowing itself to be led. "'Kay." There was a distinct pout in the child's voice that Hikaka could recognize without being able to see the young one's face. Whether the sadness was due to being escorted away from perceived adventure or the prospect of snacks or over something else entirely he didn't know. But so help him if the source of the child's unhappiness was being returned to the care of his father.

Together they walked down the broad, minimalistic corridor before turning to the right and following a wide, curving wall. To one side there was nothing but pale, blank grayness interrupted at set intervals with plain darker gray doors and dull green paper placards slotted into plastic holders trying to imitate brass. The other side was a series of massive windows, stretching from floor to ceiling and all the way up and down the corridor, affording a spectacular view of the city below them, covered in tall buildings, divided by dark lines of the roadway and dotted with green parks.

The tadpole was not looking out the window. Instead, its eyes kept glancing between his newfound companion and the floor. The older Keronian could almost sense a question burning in the younger's mind and expected to hear one when the tadpole opened its mouth, but instead the child just shoved two fingers into its mouth. Odd, he knew the child was young but thought it was older than _that_. Taking a quick step forward and pivoting on one foot, the General dropped to a crouch in front of the red tadpole, releasing its hand to hold its shoulder instead and bringing his other hand up to gently grip the small wrist, pulling both chubby fingers free. "You shouldn't do that," he chided as lightly as he could.

The child looked at the floor again, head bowed. "M' brother says I should," came the vaguely whining response.

"Oh? Why so?"

"He says it keeps me from askin' too many qu'stions," the youth muttered towards the slightly scuffed tiles beneath its feet.

Hikaka frowned, drawing himself upwards as much as he could while still kneeling. "Always ask questions, child. If something is confusing or unclear, ask until you understand. Do you know why you should do this?"

The younger one gave a slow, bobbing nod, slowly raising his head to peek up at the dark adult in front of it. "Cause you can' be a good sol'ier if y' don' know what your doin', an' that's how people ge' hurt."

Hikaka rocked back on his heels, quietly pleased with the answer. "Ah, so your parents are military?" He'd been starting to wonder about that.

"Uh-huh. Daddy does borin' stuff here."

"And your mother?"

"I 'unno." The tadpole grimaced, head dropping to look downwards again. Well, that response certainly wasn't worrying in any way. Idly, he wondered if the child had lost its mother but was too young to understand the permanence of death, even to a species as advanced as Keronians.

Deciding to simply avoid that particular series of questions, the General instead guided the conversation back to its roots. "Well? Did you have a question?" Again he received that slight, hesitant nod. "And? I promise I will not get angry with any question you may ask."

Still there was hesitation, the child's gaze fixed downwards, eyes squeezed shut as it shifted its weight, one hand clenched in a fist near its chest. Finally, the question burst forth, words tumbling over each other in the child's rush as it blurted out "You're eyes are all stare-y!"

Hikaka could not suppress a chuckle, shifting his own weight back into a more comfortable position. "Oh, is that all? I apologize, they _can_ be rather scary but I'm afraid I'm stuck with them." Which was not entirely true because they were only contacts, if specially made ones, but they were part of the uniform of his rank and he really wasn't allowed to remove them in public for anything short of an emergency on the level of, say, someone having thrown flesh-eating acid in his face.

The child was peering up at him again with those wide, curious eyes. "An' your hand feels funny."

A smile twitched up the corners of his lips. "Yes, I know that too. It's not just my hand either. Here, feel this." The Grand High General of the Keron Army bowed his head towards a small child that he did not even know the name or gender of, using his free hand to lift one of his hat flaps. Without hesitation, a small red hand clutched at the offered fabric, tiny fingers digging in and _pulling_ the flap closer for better inspection. Hikaka was startled, actually needing to catch his balance against the yank the child had given his hat; he had not expected that kind of strength from such a small Keronian.

The child gave his hat a hard squeeze that he was very grateful he could not feel before releasing it, turning its hand to instead grab one of its own hat flaps, fingering the burgundy cloth. "It's all squooshy, like jelly!" the child exclaimed, reaching out to squeeze the dark, semi-reflective fabric again.

Laughing again, sides shaking, Hikaka reached up to rest a hand lightly on top of the child's hat. "I can assure you, it does not taste like jelly." It was wonderful, seeing such wonder and enthusiasm. He himself had gotten used to the rubbery coating ages ago and could only faintly recall his initial distaste for it. Of course, the Keronians working in the labs had since improved the formula for the coating and it no longer carried a distinctly unpleasant smell that had somehow managed to also linger on his tongue and make everything taste like old tires or made high pitched squeaking sounds if he rubbed it the wrong way against any other moderately smooth surface. He absolutely did _not_ miss the days of feeling like he was a walking balloon shaped like a Keronian.

He shut his mouth tightly, forcing back a squawk as the child grabbed hold of his forehead without asking, fingers digging in just above where his hat gave way to his skin beneath the cover of anonymity. A protest died on his lips when the child continued its explorations, prodding around the area. "An' you don' have a sym'ol, either."

"No, no I don't…" Hikaka was feeling rather startled, wondering where this bold little tadpole had come from and where the shy, if friendly, one had gone.

"Why not?" the tadpole demanded with a frown.

How was he suppose to explain this…? The matters of the military elite and planetary security were above the concern of any tadpole. No matter how smart a child may have been, it was unfair to burden them with that kind of knowledge and he prayed he would never have to destroy a child's world like that.

"Because… Because it doesn't matter what I look like. I'm a soldier; all I need to do is my job and do it well. So long as I can do that, I don't care if nobody knows who I am."

"Oh." The child released its painful grip, entire body dropping as it shifted its weight away from him. "Like mommy, then…"

Once again, Hikaka wondered what had happened to this child's mother, who she was or may have been. A more pressing question, however, pushed itself to the tip of his tongue. "But I don't mind telling you who I am." Shifting up onto one knee, he gave a sort of bow to the tadpole. "I am General Hikaka," there was no need to add the full formalities. "Would you tell me who you are?" A _name_ would be immensely helpful in getting this child back where it belonged.

The tadpole squinted up at him, eyes no longer rounded but instead angular, like half circles set at an angle. "'m Giroro."

"All right Giroro. I work back there, by the snack machine you'd found. Do you know where your father works?"

"Uh-huh. He's in the'retical weapons are an' dee, on th' eights floor. More that way, there's a staircase on the northeast side that's always really empty 'round now. The stairs closer to here are gonna be really crowded 'cause of ev'one goin' to eat."

"Really?" Huh. Well that was… something. Just how many times had this child wandered off? And when was the last time he'd even eaten in the cafeteria, rather than in his office?

"Uh-huh."

"Well then," bracing his hands against his knees, Hikaka heaved himself back up onto his feet, "I guess we have a walk before us."

Giroro nodded, a look of complete seriousness falling across the tadpole's round face as the little one reached up to take the General's hand. "It's okay, I won' let you get lost, sir."

Mother of frog. This kid. Nodding vaguely, Hikaka made a slight gesture with his hand. "Lead on then, soldier."

"'m not a soldier." There was a deep frown on the young frog's face. "I'm a _conduc'or_."

"Like… for energy or…?" Really, that could mean so many things and none of them made any sense.

"For _trains_; you're my passenger." There was a very matter-of-fact edge to the child's voice, as though it expected its elder to know this because it was an obvious fact of life, like how the sky was blue and clouds were shaped like stars.

"I… see…" Actually, no, he didn't, not at all.

There was a spirited bounce to the youngster's step now and with a slight wag of his tail he announced, "An' our first stop is my dad!"

With a smile, the General allowed himself to be led down the hall and through the building by the little red non-war engine.

* * *

Author's notes: This originated out of a different story I was working, both as a character writing exercise for the General and as an explanation for Giroro's line in the manga about having lots of friends at HQ, despite apparently never talking to any of them in all the years he's been on Earth. It grew a bit from there.

I'd also like to note that for Hikaka's rank, I've seen his character referred to once as Grand High General but much more often as Colonel. I'm not sure which rank is canonically correct and I chose to go with Grand High General in order to better highlight the power indifference between the characters.


End file.
